


A Tiger by the Tail

by clgfanfic



Category: Starsky & Hutch, War of the Worlds (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-09
Updated: 2012-11-09
Packaged: 2017-11-18 06:39:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starsky is undercover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Tiger by the Tail

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Compadres #7 and later under Black Ops #7 under the pen name Lynn Gill. It is a crossover with War of the Worlds, but pre-series.

          The constant beat of the Top-40 music made it impossible for Hutch to follow the conversation, but watching the women's faces it was clear that they were enjoying their scantily clad waiter – a lot.

          Sitting alone at a small table next to the group of four women, the blond detective smiled to himself, almost giggling when one of the ladies ran a caressing finger down the waiter's arm.  The obviously new server jerked back, nearly losing control of the tray of empty and half-empty glasses he carried, but with a flashing smile and deprecating dip of his head, he managed to escape with his virtue intact – what was left of it, anyway.

          Hutch leaned back and forced the smile off his face before the man reached his table.  The heavy tray landed on the formica tabletop with a thud and a rattle.

          "Ah, Hutch, I'm _not_ gonna make it…" Starsky panted.

          The lanky blond detective leaned forward.  "Come on, Starsk, it can't be that bad."  He nodded toward the four.  "They like you.  Beside, you've only got a few more hours."

          Blue eyes widened under the mop of dark curls.  "You don't understand.  It's _dangerous_ out there."

          Hutch fought back another grin.  "You heard Huggy, something big's going to come down here today."

          Starsky glanced around the crowded room, filled almost to overflowing with women… just women… then slipped into the seat across from his partner.

          "Maybe, but I've gotta tell ya, Hutch, I feel— I feel like a— A… Playboy bunny!"  He glanced up in time to see the laughter in his partner's eyes.  "Sort of," he added quickly.

          And it was no wonder, the blond thought, given the costumes the waiters had to wear at the newly opened Playgirl's Tiger Club.  The striped bathing-suit-like briefs – complete with two and a half foot long tiger's tail – left very little to the customers' imaginations.

          A pretty, petite redhead walked by, smiling down at Starsky.  She growled.  The detective blushed and dropped down further behind the cover of his tray.

          "See what I mean?" he asked after she continued past the two men.

          Hutch nodded.  And the fun wasn't over yet.  He rubbed the wicked grin off his lips with his hand.  It was payback time.

          "…and that bachelorette party is the _worst_ ," Starsky was saying.  "They pull my tail _every_ time I go past the tables."

          "You better get back to work," Hutch suggested. 

          "Next time _I_ get to flip the coin," Starsky growled, standing and dragging the tray off the table.

          He prowled back to the bar, deposited the tray and picked up another loaded with full glasses.  The bartender nodded toward the far corner.  With a martyred rise and fall of his shoulders, Starsky headed back toward the bachelorette party.

          Hutch laughed as his partner entered the throng of women, one of them reaching out to tug on his tail while another kidnapped the tray and held it hostage, forcing him to dance with the bride to be. 

          Hutch watched, a grin on his face.  He'd met the to-be-bride briefly at the bar: Suzanne Baxter.  She was a pretty brunette, graduate student, sense of humor... too bad she was getting married or he'd have been tempted to get her phone number. 

          Starsky shimmied and Suzanne laughed.  She reached out, taking his hands and leading him through several spins and finally a dip.  The women applauded and Starsky slinked over to one of the tables, apprehending his empty tray and almost diving out of the corner to escape.

          The four women at the table next to Hutch whistled and waved.

          The blond watched Starsky suck in a deep breath and force a smile onto his face, then stalk over, his tail waving nervously behind him.

          _This is it_ , Hutch thought.  This was the opportunity he'd been waiting for.

          Starsky stopped just out of reach of the women.  "What can I getcha?"

          "Strawberry daiquiris all around," one of the women said.

          "And a waiter chaser," another added with a giggle.

          The detective grinned seductively and gave his tail a shake.  "Arghhh," he tiger-growled.

          The four women squealed and pounded the tabletop.

          Starsky back-peddled to escape their hands.

          Hutch shook his head.  Leave it to Starsky to enjoy his exploitation.

          Turning, Starsky headed to the bar to retrieve the drinks.  The bartender set the glasses on the tray and the detective hefted it, carrying it back.  The women behaved as he passed out the drinks, well, until he got to the last woman.  He leaned over the table, setting the daiquiri in front of the petite blonde.

          That was it!

          Hutch reached under the table and pulled out the cat-toy cum fly-swatter, raised the device, took careful aim and squeezed.

          A three-inch circle of plastic at the end of a plastic stick zinged through the air, contacting with a stinging smack on one buttock.

          "Ahhh!" Starsky yelled, lurching forward and landing on the table, his arms and legs splayed over the edges.

          The four women squealed and reached out for the detective, their hands roaming freely over his body.

          "Ah, stop!  No!  Ah, please!  That tickles!  Stop!" the detective pleaded.  "Tickles!  Stop!  Please!"  And finally, "Hutch!"

          The blond watched with pure enjoyment as one of the women grabbed Starsky's tail and began to pull.

          "Hutch!  Help!  Hutch!"

          The other patrons, drawn to the sounds of the detective's frantic cries crowded around the table.  They cheered, and began a steady chant: "Pull 'em, pull 'em, pull 'em…"

          "No!"

          The bellow was lost in the burst of applause that erupted as the brief slid off, revealing one perfectly full moon.  Well, not quite perfect, Hutch realized.  One cheek was marred by a three inch red circle.

          One of the four women at the table reached into her purse and pulled out a lipstick.  Dialing out the makeup, she traced a circle around the blemish, added two dots and a huge smile.  The onlookers exploded into spontaneous applause.

          Suzanne Baxter stepped forward.  "May I?" she asked.

          The woman smiled broadly and handed her the lipstick.  Suzanne leaned over the other cheek and with two deft moves left a heart on the behind.  The women cheered louder.

          His dignity lost, Starsky slithered off the table, and scooped the briefs back over his butt, blushing furiously.

          Hutch stood.  "Ladies?" he called to the four.  "One, two, three—"

          "April Fool's!"

          The bachelorette party exploded in laughter and Starsky turned an even deeper shade of red.  He glared at Hutch.  "A joke?!"

          Hutch shrugged.  "Something big did come down," he said sincerely.  "Starsk, I'd like to introduce detectives Fife, Gill, Morman and Mossy."

          The four women waved, grinning widely.

          Starsky's eyes dropped closed, but a grin was already spreading across his face.

          "I figured I owed you," Hutch said, stepping forward to wrap an arm around his partner's shoulders.  "Records, bowling, the food, the way you drive—"

          The blue eyes popped open.  "I'll get you for this," he promised with a soft chuckle.

          "Huh, excuse me?"

          They looked, finding Suzanne.  She handed Starsky the lipstick.  "Hope you're not too mad, because you've really made my bachelorette party.  Thank you."

          Hutch watched his partner draw himself up, his chest puffing out slightly.

          "Naw, it's okay," Starsky said.  "'Sides, it's given me an idea."

          "Oh?" Suzanne asked.

          Starsky nodded.  "Butt art.  Dancers in every club will go for it.  Customers will love it.  Artists will get work!"

          The three laughed. 

          "Wanna dance?" Starsky asked.

          "Sure," Suzanne said.

          "I'll deal with _you_ later," he told Hutch.

          "I'm sure you will," the blond detective said, watching the pair head into the dance floor, the tiger tail waving side to side.  He shook his head and sat down to enjoy the show.

 

The End


End file.
